Happy Holidays, with Love from Liza
by CodependentLiza
Summary: A temporary submission for those struggling like me to hold on through the holidays, & to love the difficult, wounded people we call "family." These are ROUGH drafts, meant only as emotional comfort, and will be pulled after the holidays for clean-up and re-submission. If you haven't read my work before and liked it, please check out one of my other stories first. ExB, cc's
1. Chapter 1

Radio contest—Edward is lead singer of famous band. Rose bullies bella into entering and bella wins, taking rose (& jasper?) with her. Bella refuses to attend special party the night before the big concert in Paris, staying back in the hotel room in her pj's and ordering a hot fudge sundae and watching iCarly/Nickelodeon on the hotel tv. Edward noticed her? Earlier and is fascinated by the fact that she runs away from him instead of wanting to suck him dry like everyone else, so he gets Rose to tell him (which isn't hard, b/c Rose wants to find a love life for Bella and is happily ensconced with Emmett at this point anyway herself) their room number and even to give him a key. He surprises her there, and he goes over and sits down on the sofa to watch with her. She's frozen in shock until he gently points out the chocolate on her lip, then she vaults off the sofa feeling impossibly humiliated and runs to hide in the bathroom. She brushes her teeth and waits there for what feels like forever but is really only 15 minutes, and comes out thinking he must have left but he's just matter-of-factly waiting for her on the sofa, although he did text rose (or maybe jasper?) and ask if there was something wrong with bella, and if her running to the bathroom and refusing to come out was normal behavior for her.

Rose is elated, and reassures Edward (by text) that, "not wrong, but not ave-normal. Don't move on her tonite or I kick ur ass."

Edward responds. "clarify pls. is watchng icarly & eatng ice crm "moving on her"?"

"no, if tongue stays in ice cream & out of her mouth."

"ok, thx. Still in bathroom. Have I f'd up?"

"it's a test. She tests all the time. Don't like—leave now."

"I'm fine w/ tests as long as I pass them. Give me answrs."

"b safe."

"she's dangerous?"

"b safe w/ HER. 2 her. But u hav 2 mean it. She knows. G2g—luck."

Edward puts down phone, runs hand through hair. Looks up just as door opens and Bella tiptoes out, sees him still there, staring at her, and freezes, eyes huge.

Edward sees her staring there, like a rabbit, frozen in the hopes the predator will pass her by, and starts to understand what Rose meant. He thinks through what he should do next, remaining still himself. Then he slowly, slowly, slooowwwly raises his hand and beckons to Bella, just with two fingers, not saying a word.

She furrows her brow at him, trying to look away but unable to, and he repeats the gesture. Grinning inside, he sees how she's trapped by him, as long as he doesn't push her too far, she can't deny him, she can't say no. He senses that speaking would be too much right now, so he just draws her to him with his unwavering gaze, and the hand he keeps holding out to her. As she starts, slowly, cautiously, moving towards him, he allows himself one short nod, but it makes her freeze for a moment and almost turn back, so he doesn't do it again. Three commercials go by before she is in front of the sofa again, and another one passes while she stands there, staring at him staring at her. Finally, he reaches out and pats the cushion near him, but not right next to him, just as iCarly comes back on. Distracted by the show's voices, Bella looks up at the tv, and Edward takes advantage to wrap his hand around her wrist and pull her down next to him. She plops down, then looks up surprised at him, but his eyes are on the tv now, though his attention is 100% on her. He moves an arm around her shoulders and slides his own body over, but keeps everything strictly "G" rated. By the time of the next commercial break, she has allowed her body to relax into his and he's moving his fingertips gently up and down the side of her arm.

When the commercials start, he turns to her and scoops her onto his lap, turning her sideways. She freezes again, rigid, but he tucks her head under his chin and starts running his hand up and down her back. The show comes back on, but she doesn't turn to see it. By the end of the episode, she's fast asleep.

When Edward's sure she's totally out, he reaches for the remote and turns the tv off, just holding her. He starts to drift himself, and when Rosalie comes back to the room later that night, she finds him asleep, still holding Bella. He startles awake at her entrance, but not Bella. Rosalie comes in and sits down next to them.

"So?" she asks.

Edward smiles. "So what?" he says back, with a cheeky grin.

She laughs, quietly. "I see you figured out how to be safe."

Edward looks down at the brown head asleep against his chest. Nodding, he says in a husky voice, "I think I've started to figure it out."

All of a sudden, Rosalie gets intense. "Don't come back if you're not serious about her, Cullen."

He looks up, startled at her sudden change in tone. "Pardon?" he asks, taken aback.

She leans in closer, and says again, menacingly, "Break her heart and I'll cut yours out and eat it for breakfast."

Edward doesn't move an inch, stares her down, lifts one eyebrow and says, "Is that right?" noncommittally.

Rosalie barks back, "Hell, yes."

"You run hot and cold, Hale, you know that, right?"

Rosalie just stares. "When it comes to Bella Swan, I run one way: protective. Make her happy like you did tonight, and I'm your friend for life. Use her, dump her and leave her alone again, and I become your worst nightmare."

There's a silence as Edward weighs her words, then looks down at Bella again, fitting so perfectly in his arms. Mentally shrugging he replies, "Not an issue," as he keeps staring at the top of the enigmatic girl's sleeping head. He's not sure how it could possibly be "not an issue," as he has so confidently stated, but somehow, he's sure that is true, and this thought pleases him.

Rosalie snorts, but she nods, and reaches for the remote to turn on the Late Show. They watch it together companionably, and when it finishes, Rosalie turns off the tv and stands. "I'll help her into bed if you want to carry her in," she offers to Edward.

Edward reluctantly nods, not really wanting to end the night but knowing he needs rest, and not ready for the necessary conversation if Isabella wakes up in his arms. Ever so gently, he lifts her in his arms and carries her into her bedroom, Rosalie going ahead to turn on the bedside lamp and turn down the covers. Edward positions her on the bed, and tucks her stockinged feet under the blankets while Rosalie pulls them up and over her. Edward moves back to give Rosalie room, staring at Bella as she turns over and curls up into the fetal position, tucking her hands under the pillow, smiling in her sleep as she whispers, "Edward."

Rosalie hears it, and turns to smirk at Edward. "All right, lover boy, out!" she pronounces, as she shoos him out the bedroom door, then turns off the light and follows.

"She's planning on missing the soundcheck tomorrow."

"Why?"

"She's shy, genius. Not much is worth a trip with strangers on a tourbus to her."

"Not a problem. I'll send a car."

"Still stuck with the group there."

"No, you won't be. Unless you've managed to piss off Emmett, you two will be in the green room."

"Is that where you stash your groupies?"

Edward gives her the finger, and walks out the door, saying "Car will come for you around 10. Don't be late."

Rosalie shoots back, "We'll be late if we feel like it, rock star."

They both grin as the door closes behind him.

The next morning, Bella wakes up and acts like nothing has happened, convinced she had imagined the whole thing. They go down for breakfast, and Bella asks Rosalie all about her night with Emmett, and about her plans for the day. When Rosalie says that a car is coming to pick them up to take them to spend the day at the stadium with Emmett and Edward, Bella almost spits her juice out of her mouth.

"Rose, I told you I didn't want to do that tour. Remember? I told the trip manager and everything."

"This isn't the tour, Bella. It's our own special tour, just with the guys. The very handsome guys. You can't say 'no' to this."

"I can, and I will. I'm not going Rosalie."

Bella starts to get upset, and Rose backs off. They go back to the room, and Bella retreats onto her bed as Rose gets ready. Fifteen minutes before 10, a knock sounds on their door. Bella throws the covers over her head and pretends not to be there. Rose goes to answer it and stands there for a little while, talking to someone, Bella can't quite make out who.

Finally, Edward knocks perfunctorily on Bella's door before sauntering in. "Good morning, sleepyhead," he says in an amused voice. "Time to rise and shine."

Bella flings the covers down and stares up at him, speechless. He reaches down for her hand to pull her out of bed, saying "Come on, sweetheart; I've been looking forward to having the day with you. I have to put a little time in for the radio gig and the soundcheck, but after that I'm all yours."

At those last words, Bella, who had been frozen standing at the side of the bed in his arms, starts frantically pulling away from him. He realizes he's overstepped, and lets go of her, watching to see what she'll do but moving in between her and the door as a precautionary measure.

She backs up against the far wall, facing him and starting to pant a little bit in equal measure excited and afraid, just as Rosalie comes in the door with Emmett at her heels. "Come on, Eddie boy, we'll be late," Emmett bellows, and Bella jumps and squeals.

Emmett gets his first good eye-ful of her, then turns and laughs at Edward. "This is the woman you're head over heels for, Edward? She looks like she's 12!" Rosalie hits him in the stomach (hard) at the same time Edward spits, "Shut up," at him, and Emmett looks wounded by the double censure, not having meant to offend quite so egregiously.

Hands up he backs up towards the doorway, saying, "Okay, okay, calm down both of you. Nice to meet you, Bella," he directs towards the frightened girl, noticing for the first time how she's cowering like a trapped animal. "Hey, E, she doesn't look so happy to see you," he says to Edward, not laughing but serious.

"Shut UP, Emmett," Edward repeats, even more vehemently, and Rosalie starts tugging Emmett out of the room.

"Come out here, and I'll explain," she hisses, and Emmett semi-reluctantly follows.

Left alone in the room, Edward starts moving towards Bella, rather quickly this time as she's pinned in a corner and he's between her and the only exit. She backs up as he moves towards her but has nowhere to go, ending up pressed against the wall. He leans in and puts his hands on the wall on either side of her, getting eye to eye by lowering himself down.

When he's got her eyes, he says, humor in his tone, "Good morning."

She just squeaks, and closes her eyes.

Edward grunts and leans in, tossing her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.


	2. Chapter 2

edward and bella meet in a theater 101 class at UW. for Edward it's an elective meeting his language arts requirement for his molecular biology/premed degree; and for bella it's the same for her psych degree she chose it b/c it's supposed to be book-learning only, not a performance class, but a new prof fills in and changes it to reading aloud/memorizing/reciting – in groups, as mini-performances but without props or costumes - for the class and for exams. he breaks them up into groups the first class and has them read from ? The Dollhouse? Romeo and Juliet? whatever it is, Edward is reading a dominant male lead to Bella's female lead, and she is speechless. stares at him as he stares at her, her body quaking; finally she gets up and runs away, out of the auditorium where the class is held. Edward fights back the urge to run after her; laughs it off but is disturbed and worried about this nameless girl. goes to lunch with the usual suspects, then heads to registrar's office to switch orgo labs. who's there in line ahead of him, about to drop theater? bella of course. he comes up behind her, says "Hey, Juliet," in a throaty whisper right in her ear. she jumps and shrieks, turning and crashing into him. he steadies her with his hands at her arms. her eyes are filling, her body shaking, shame washing over her; she doesn't hear a word he says. finally he leads her firmly by the hand out of the office and to a bench in the hallway outside, where he makes her sit and then slides in next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. when his arm comes heavily on her shoulders, giving her the opportunity to hide her face in his chest, she takes it, and they sit like that for some time, Edward holding on firmly still to her hand, rubbing circles in her palm. after she is still, Edward reaches for the paper schedule held tightly in her other hand and gently frees it from her grasp. she relinquishes it finally, dropping her hand to her lap and turning her face more firmly into his chest. he reads it over, stroking her hair, and leaning down every so often to place a gentle kiss on the top of her head. after studying her schedule, he says, with humor in his voice, "so may I presume that you are here to drop theater?" she nods into his chest. then let me make a suggestion, sweetheart. let me work out a compromise with professor Berty; if he's willing to pair you with me for every assignment and recital, will you be willing to keep the class? part of her wants to scream "no!", but she can't say no to him so she nods yes. he smiles, says "that's my good girl. we just need to head back in then so I can switch my lab section – by a remarkable coincidence I wanted in to your orgo lab. let's hope they're not full up yet and I can be your partner there too. okay? he says encouragingly to her bent head. she nods again, he grins, says "Up we go then," and hoists them both to standing, not removing his arm from around her shoulders.

in short order he has moved her in to his room in the house he shares with the rest of them, making her a "safe space" out of an oversized dog kennel covered with blankets where she can retreat when she's scared and he's not around. she also runs in there when he hurts her feelings, like when he asks her why she's majoring in the sciences instead of the humanities and she says she wants to be a doctor and he laughs uproariously.

He stops laughing when he sees her fly out of the room, and starts to realize how badly he's hurt her. Mentally crossing his fingers, hoping she hasn't flown out of the house though he didn't hear the door, he checks his room first, and like the Grinch, his heart grows three sizes all at once when he sees that—even though it was he himself who hurt her this time—she has still run to her kennel, and is now there, curled up in a corner, crying.

He says, "Thank God," under his breath, then turns and locks the door and, for good measure, props a chair up against it to give him more time to catch her if she makes a break for it. She's still heedlessly crying in the kennel, so then he gets on his hands and knees and climbs in after her, closing the kennel door from the inside as he goes, then pulling her in to his bent body and curling up with her in the blankets. She lets go then, sobbing hard in his arms, and he makes soothing noises and pets her hair and holds her. Breathing with her, he coaches her through the last big heaves after she's cried herself out, then says, quietly, "Baby girl, I am so sorry. I will never laugh at you like that again," he says, meaning it with all his heart, and hers, because he knows now for certain she's given hers to him to take care of.

She's calm now, and says back, "That's okay, Edward. I know it sounds ridiculous. I know _I_ am ridiculous—"

He interrupts her there, sternly. "Sweetheart, you are _not_ ridiculous. Just a little confused sometimes, about some things, for very good reasons."

"you don't think I can be a doctor?" she asks shyly.

"sweetheart, I don't _want_ you to be a doctor."

You don't?

I don't.

Shyly, she asks so softly he can barely hear, "Why not?"

He pulls her tighter and chuckles, softly too. "Because, baby girl, I like you like this."

They lay there a moment, and she takes this in, relaxing into him, letting him comfort her. "Like what?" she asks, just a whisper.

Edward feels desire flood him, and he turns his body a little so that he's putting pressure on her side now, half-laying on top of her. "Like this," he says throatily, as he moves one leg between the two of hers, rolling her almost on her stomach, and puts one hand down on the kennel floor in front of her, pinning her and pressing the length of him up against her, from top to bottom. Then he leans down and bites her, on the back of her neck, leaving his mouth there, his teeth gently but firmly against her skin.

She squeals, then whimpers, bucking her hips up then arching away when she collides with his almost-scary body. He follows after her, pressing farther into her as she flattens herself against the blanket-colored floor, lifting his mouth off her neck in order to whisper in her ear, "That's right, Isabella, you're mine. That's how I like you, and that's how I'm going to keep you."

They're both breathing heavily now, but Bella's feeling braver than ever before somehow, the way he's containing her body giving her a new feeling of safety. She capitalizes on this by fighting back a little, wriggling her body in a way that makes them both feel really good, and really tense. "Please," she breathes, moving her hips side to side without meaning to.

"Please, what?" Edward says back, flexing his quite intentionally.

"Let-me-go!" she gets out, breathlessly, pushing up with her arms and trying to buck him off her back.

He laughs, lightly, says back, "Not a chance in Hell, sweetheart, or in heaven for that matter," before wrapping his arms around her chest and flipping her on top of him, where she immediately curls up like a millipede that's been poked, covering her head with her arms. He half-way sits up (unable to all the way because of the roof of the kennel), and wraps a blanket around her, stashing her in his lap.

At that moment, Emmett knocks on the door before rattling the handle. "Eddie boy, you in here? We're holding dinner on—"

Edward interrupts him. "We'll be down in a minute, Emmett. Go ahead without us, please."

Emmett makes "oooh" sounds, and starts cat-calling. "Edward and Bella, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g."

To which Edward responds with equal maturity, yelling "Shut the f- up, Em," covering Bella's ears as he does so.

"Daddy, I don't like chemistry," she whispers, her head nestled against his shoulder, her eyes closed.

"Baby girl, I'm glad," he says, matter-of-factly, keeping the triumphant whoop out of his voice that she has just named him the way he's been naming her since their second day together, as she appears to be oblivious to that fact herself.

"You are?" she asks, totally surprised.

"I am. I have no desire to marry myself. I want you to be different; to be good at different things than I am; to see the world differently. It makes my life better, having you in it; having you be different—very different—from me. It will make our kids' lives better too." He's not hesitant as he says this last bit, though he does pause briefly first. He's never said those words before, and as he expects, they have a big effect.

Bella goes stone still, then breathes out, hesitant, "Kids?"

"Yes, baby girl. Lots and lots of kids." His heart soars at how happy she looks at this, the smile on her face, the little squeal that breaks out before she turns and buries her face in his chest. He places his large hand over her head, holding her there, making promise after promise without speaking another word.

After a little while, Bella's finding it hard to breathe so moves away just a little, and Edward lets her, saying, "Now let's go get dinner, baby girl."

But she doesn't scramble off his lap right away. Instead, she asks, hesitantly but with a new determination in her voice, "Um, Edward?"

He pauses, settling back down, recognizing she's not done yet and reconciling his hungry stomach to that fact.

Brushing hair off her face, he looks down at her shy but earnest expression, and grins. "Are you sure that's my name?"

She gets confused. "What do you mean?"

He pretends seriousness, and part of him is. "You called me something else just now, and I liked it. Everybody calls me Edward; well, except for Emmett of course. I like it when you call me something different."

"Something different?" She sounds clueless, and she mostly is, except for some small part of her, buried deep, but growing stronger—and happier—every day. That part knows what he means, but won't let her admit it without hearing it from him first.

"You know what I mean," he smiles down at her, calling out that part of her that he knows is there too, rubbing his nose against hers.

She shakes her head, and looks down, and smiles shyly, hiding against his shoulder.

He starts petting her hair, over and over, holding her tightly to him the way you'd hold a wriggly baby with no neck control yet, keeping her safe from her own impulses.

"You're my baby girl, and I'm your—" he pauses there, cuing her, waiting for her to finish.

She giggles nervously, but just turns farther into him and says nothing.

He won't let her out of this; he can't. He knows how important this moment is. He also knows it's not the question she meant to ask him earlier, but that it answers every question she might ask. Identifying the nature of their relationship transcends every other issue they might face together, because it lets her know how every other issue will be met: with him in front, making decisions, holding her hand and telling her only what he thinks she needs to know. From her perspective, it looks like her hiding behind him, gripping onto his legs from behind, using him (she feels the pain and shame of this) as a shield to protect her from a world that always has been and always will be too much. She wants to be there, more than anything, but she can't quite believe he wants her there too. It's too good to be true; she's sure of it. And yet, there he is, egging her on, getting her to call him…to call him…

"You're my baby girl, and I'm your—" Edward says again, more slowly, more pronounced, his hands moving towards the end into tickle positions. When she doesn't say the missing word, just giggling again, he takes action, rolling her onto her back and tickling her unmercifully.

She writhes, laughing, face on fire, a little genuine distress building at how out-of-control she feels, a little afraid she's going to wet her pants right there, in front of him. If only she knew he's a little wanting her to.

"Say it," he goads, pausing briefly with his hands to give her the chance to finish the sentence.

She's breathing heavily, looking up at him, and smiles in spite of herself, shaking her head "No," free to fight him now that she knows—or at least is beginning to suspect—that he will never, ever let her win.

He laughs. "All right, baby girl, you asked for it," and starts in again, adding his lips and tongue and teeth against her bellybutton. Isabella really is close to peeing or …_something_, and the terror of that makes her cry out, "Okay! Uncle! Uncle, uncle, uncle!"

Edward pauses, moving his head up her body to stare down at her eyes swimming with tears, mostly from laughter but partly real, and says, looking like a wolf and feeling like one too, "Close, but wrong relationship, little girl. Try again. You are my little girl, and I am your—"

He hangs there, hovering in her personal space, his eyes boring down. She closes her eyes against the invasion, terrified, screwing her face up tightly, trying to outlast his will to keep her secret safe. He's got her though, and he knows it. One more time, he leans in to her ear, and says with heat and promise, "Say it, Isabella. You are my little girl, and I am your—"

She breaks. Into a million pieces she flies, and as she comes apart she screams, much louder than she intended, "Daddy! You are my daddy!"

The words fly out and around them both, whipping the air and sucking their consciousness into a silent space where they both freeze, staring at each other, Bella's eyes open now with the horror of what she's just said, Edward's staring at her with the wonder and awe of it. Finally, Edward breaks the silence, and the space dissolves, collapsing into them and binding them together, forever. Nodding his head as he speaks, so calmly, he says, "That's right, Isabella. You are my little girl, and I am your Daddy."

She almost explodes at the power of his words, but instead seizes up into as small a ball as she can form, covering her head with her arms, shaking, panting, undone. He smiles, and pulls her back into his lap one more time, covering her all over with gentle pats and rubs and kisses.

"Shhhhh, sweetheart, it's okay; it's okay now, baby. Daddy's here; Daddy's never going to leave you alone; you will never be alone again."

And finally, at the verbalization of that last promise, Bella throws herself at him, wrapping her desperately ecstatic arms around his neck, squeezing his neck tight, thanking God for being so unaccountably good to her, thanking Edward for being like God. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you," she chants, as he shushes her, and pats her, and repeats over and over, "Such a good girl, sweetheart; you're such a good girl. Daddy's sweet little girl," and at that _word_ again, she writhes and wriggles and they start the calming all over again until finally, finally, she's worn out, and collapses into his lap, totally pliant, totally his.


End file.
